


Aroha

by debascas



Series: The Wonderful Misadventures of Junkrat and Roadhog [2]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Animalistic Behaviour, Character Study, Drinking, Established Relationship, Feelings First, Gentle Sex, Intercrural Sex, M/M, Manhandling, Nudity, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Roadhog feels bad and Junkrat feels too much, Rough Sex, Smut, Smut Second, Swearing, Symbiotic Relationship, smut with feelings
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-23
Updated: 2017-06-23
Packaged: 2018-11-18 04:15:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,581
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11283558
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/debascas/pseuds/debascas
Summary: Junkrat wanted to remember.Roadhog couldn't bring himself to forget.





	Aroha

**Author's Note:**

> Aroha: to love
> 
>  
> 
> Nothing's gonna hurt you baby  
> As long as your with me you'll be just fine  
> Nothing's gonna hurt you baby  
> Nothing's gonna take you from my side
> 
> -Nothing's Gonna Hurt You Baby (Cigarettes After Sex, 2012).

* * *

The first time they'd ended up in bed together was far from tender.

If their dirty, ripped bedrolls even counted as a bed.

Initially, the night was supposed to be somewhat of a celebration. A time of patting themselves on the back for successfully trekking across the wasteland. They were so close to the coast, they could practically smell the sea salt and feel the ocean breeze against their skin.

A crate of stolen moonshine was all it took.

During the witching hour, under the shelter of limestone caves with one too many to drink, they were at each other like animals. Biting, growling, and fulfilling that visceral need for human contact. Nails raking across shoulders. Hands gripping hair. Skin slapping skin. Sweat mixing and coating their tangled bodies.

Junkrat moved hard and fast. Would grind against Roadhog hard enough to chafe. Dug jagged nails into his large hands when they gripped his scrawny chest, his bony hip, unrelenting. Bit on his broad fingers when they slipped into his mouth. Squeezed his pale, smooth thighs together to make a warm, narrow space for his bodyguard.

As irradiated as he was, Junkrat had damn nice legs.

The noises he made during sex were music to Roadhog’s ears. Rewards for putting up with his usual warbling babble. A litany of ragged, choking, panting gasps that could've been heard from kilometres away if Roadhog wasn't clamping his mouth shut.

Sometimes Roadhog couldn't tell if the sounds that came out of him were from pain or pleasure. Part of him didn't want to injure the smaller man. But another primal side _absolutely_ wanted to push Junkrat into the dirt and go to town with him.

Still, Junkrat never told him to stop, lashing out whenever his vice grip let up even a little, until Roadhog got the message and held him down harder. At the time, it seemed like the only way to make Junkrat satisfied.

It was easy on that first night. To succumb to their innermost wants, to give up all their inhibitions.

It got easier after that, as the comfort of civilization made its way into their lives.

Roadhog was angry, destructive, vengeful, and Junkrat knew it. Knew how to use it to his advantage. Prodded and taunted him until his patience wore out. Made him fight back and pin him down, settle his weight on those skinny hips until bones creaked in protest, wrap his hand around his throat until his thin lips turned blue.

Junkrat, so he said on multiple occasions, quite enjoyed every minute of it.

The scavenger himself was hard to quit. He was a force of destruction, leaving chaos and bedlam in his wake. Explosions and fire and blood, bright orange eyes that held the fury of the sun, lean and tall and muscles stretched over bones. A fuckin’ wasteland adonis, if Roadhog wanted to be poetic about it. Even with his ugly, wild-eyed mug and receding hairline.

It took Roadhog nearly two months of their brutal trysts to realize something about his boss.

Maybe _rough_ was the only way Junkrat knew how to do it.

Even when he didn’t want to, Roadhog listened. To Junkrat’s incessant chatter. To the stories he would tell on those calm, late nights by the fire about his life before the discovery. To his too quiet breathing as he slept, fitfully and twitchy and in short bursts.

Junkrat was a product of the wastes. Born from the blood-hued sands. Emerged from the wreckage and rubble alive, a new person meant to live among the ruins and cutthroats.

It was his own fault, Roadhog knew. _His_ decisions _, his_ actions, ultimately destroyed the Outback, ruining any chance of Junkrat living some semblance to a normal life.

He made Junkrat this way.

Sometimes Mako’s voice rang out in his head. Would chastise him. Remind him.

_He’s young._

_He deserves more than_ this _._

Who was Roadhog to argue.

_Do something about it._

It was no easy feat to appease the guilt that haunted him, the need to make everything between them right.

Anytime he tried to slow things down, Junkrat glared at him like he was a faulty bomb. A dud that failed to produce the boom. When Roadhog brushed their noses together, Junkrat snarled and nipped at his mouth. When Roadhog pressed his lips against his neck, Junkrat pushed him off to deliver a sharp bite to his shoulder. Punched his arm when he gently grazed over his abs. Clawed at his back when he tried to hold him.

The piece of shit wasn't helping Roadhog in the slightest.

Finally, there came a night when Roadhog had enough, growled in frustration and pinned Junkrat to the hotel room mattress, all 550 pounds settled on his hips, elbows pressing his spread arms to the sheets and trapping him.

Junkrat cackled, writhed and squirmed, snarled like a caged animal low in his throat, eager to fight back. They've played this game before. 

Roadhog loomed over him. His eyes were bright and glowing, toned chest heaving and coated in sweat. “Get on with it,” Junkrat barked.

Roadhog leaned in, only to pull back when the rat gnashed his teeth.

“Easy,” Roadhog rumbled, rubbing circles across Junkrat’s forearms, paying special attention to the scars of his right stump. “No biting.”

Junkrat tilted his head, eyes blown wide under furrowed brows, mouth parted open. Visible confusion was clear on his ruddy face.

He looked wary when Roadhog leaned in again, tried to speak, initiate the banter, but was cut short when thick lips pressed against his forehead.

Roadhog could feel Junkrat's pulse beneath his fingers, a fluttery quick-paced beat, and feel puffs of his breathing across his chest, shallow and hitched.

“Oi” Junkrat rasped. “What are you-?”

Roadhog trailed his lips along the sharp line of his jaw, ignoring the frustrated huff from his charge, soon reaching the shell of his ear. He nipped at the lobule, catching it in his mouth, no teeth, earning himself a sharp gasp. He started again, pressing slow, lazy pecks down that long, sunburnt neck.

The skinny man was quivering underneath him, tense, like a rope pulled taut and ready to snap.

“It's okay,” Roadhog murmured. He pulled back to cup Junkrat’s head, cradling his skull in his palms, drawing circles across his temples.

“Why,” Junkrat said, monotone yet wavering. Even his voice sounded restricted, absent of its usual liveliness and intonation. Like he was struggling to hold back.

Roadhog sighed, leaning back down to brush their noses together. “Won’t hurt you.”

“ _Want_ it to hurt,” Junkrat grit out. “Just _do_ it.”

“Not tonight,” Roadhog said, looking at Junkrat with solemn eyes.

It was so unlike him, Roadhog realized. Junkrat was a whole other person in bed. Not the chipper, clever, and admittedly funny man he knew. No, bedroom Junkrat was short-tempered, volatile, possessive, and a downright masochist. All of the rat’s negative traits amplified tenfold.

And yet, he couldn't blame the younger man for his shortcomings. It wasn’t like _he_ was any different.

Junkrat was sculpted by the desert and radiation. Forged from scrap metal and bomb fire. The Outback now was cruel, unforgiving, and changed people for the worse. It taught survival and stripped away benevolence, sympathy, selflessness, and all things that made up the good of humanity, leaving its irradiated citizens enraged and empty.

It took away genuine companionship.

Junkrat’s slurred speech from long ago rang in Roadhog’s mind. A simple confession from the smaller man, spurred on by a different instance, by a different brand of stolen alcohol long since forgotten about.

“ _You’re the only real friend I got left,_ ” he said.

The big man’s chest constricted when he remembered that phrase. The complete sincerity behind Junkrat’s words made it hard for him to breathe. He thought back to their initial business partnership, the reluctant agreements and second guessing that came with it. The underlying fear of having to get close to another person again. Back then was so different to what they had now.

Before he could think twice, before he could talk himself out of it, Roadhog surged forward, kissing Junkrat on his thin, chapped lips.

It caught the scrawny man by surprise, to feel Roadhog against his mouth. Only this time it wasn’t hungry or demanding, but slow and soft and gentle. Strong arms cradled him. Massive hands cupped his skull so carefully, as if the terms _precious_ and _fragile_ were inked across his skin.

Roadhog’s never kissed him like this before.

Never held him like this before.

This was all wrong. 

Panicked, Junkrat’s eyes snapped shut, body coiling like he'd been hit square in the gut. He squirmed, he couldn't breathe.

Junkrat hasn't felt this kind of tenderness in years, Roadhog knew. Not since before the Meltdown.

Roadhog tilted his head to deepen the kiss. Junkrat tasted like smoke and gunpowder. Smelled like chemicals and the lemon shampoo from the motel bathroom. His lips were dry and rough, almost like sandpaper. It should've been uncomfortable, it should've been terrible, but no, it felt...good. It felt right. Familiar. 

This.

This was nice.

It's been so long since Roadhog was invested in another person. So long since he's held a significant other in his arms.

The atmosphere in the room suddenly became tense, pulling Roadhog from his blissed-out head space. 

Something was wrong. He pulled away when he could no longer feel the rat’s warm breath across his face, propping himself up. Junkrat was trembling. Goosebumps dotted across his unevenly tanned skin. He kept his eyes closed, even when Roadhog left his lips.

“I can stop,” Roadhog murmured. “You call the shots.”

Junkrat turned away, burying his face into Roadhog’s hand. He sniffed against his palm. 

Roadhog brushed a thumb over his cheekbone. “Tell me.”

Junkrat flinched at the touch. A shuddering breath wracked through him.

The kiss had been a mistake. A huge mistake. A sense of creeping dread crawled through the length of Roadhog’s spine.

“Jamison,” Roadhog pushed himself up, exposing their sweaty stomachs to the cool air. “Tell me and I’ll stop.”

His name. Roadhog had used his real name.

“Don't do this to me, ‘Hog,” Junkrat whispered. “Ain't supposed to be this way.”

Roadhog was completely caught off guard. He didn't understand why Junkrat was so opposed to his actions. Didn't he want to take things slow for once? To actually  _feel_  instead of simply going at each other.

Regardless, Roadhog’s response was almost immediate, seeing how the other man seemed just as confused as he was. “I’m sorry.”

His fault. This was _his_ fault. Had he been too forward? Did he move too fast or stray too far from their regular routine? Did living in the wasteland for all these years traumatize Junkrat in a way that he didn't even know about? Did any act of gentle romantic touch unnerve the younger man to the point of panic?

Was there a way to make it up to him? 

God damn it, he didn't even know what he did wrong. Junkrat wouldn’t even look him at him.

Roadhog could feel the dampness smearing across his calluses, and with Junkrat’s next breath came a shaky, muffled cry.

Roadhog had never felt true anxiety up until this very moment.

_Not again._

The dam had burst and Roadhog knew he'd gone and messed everything up, ruined any semblance of a relationship they had, and unintentionally hurt the only person he cared about. He wanted to make amends, to compensate for his past mistakes. _Not_ make Junkrat upset. The creeping dread had turned into full-on internal dismay. He didn't know whether to leave the motel room and give Junkrat the space he needed, or to curl his arms around him and hold him tight.

Roadhog quickly decided on the latter. It was a huge relief when Junkrat didn't push him away as he wrapped his body around him and pulled the covers over themselves, further shielding him from the noisy world. Despite Roadhog’s previous threats of walking out on this gig, he just couldn't leave Junkrat. He couldn't, wouldn't, leave him behind.

They've made it too far to turn their backs on each other now.

After all, this wasn't the first time he’s covered Junkrat’s face from prying eyes when he broke down like this.

“Rat, I’m sorry.”

“No,” Junkrat shook his head weakly, turning back to meet Roadhog’s gaze. Streams of pale blue shone through the blinds, coming from the faint glow of the full moon, and Roadhog could see the outline of his boss’ grief-stricken face. “Don’t-” Junkrat took a quivering breath. Tears pooled at the corners of his eyes, “You don't need to apologize, just, just-”

Junkrat clamped a hand over his mouth as another broken sob forced its way out.

“You didn’t know, you didn’t know, ain’t your fault, you didn’t know-”

“Easy,” Roadhog rattled out, his chest growing tighter with each passing second. He ran his fingers through patches of soft blond hair, massaged the bare scalp, and ghosted over the puncture wounds, hoping to calm him down. “Sorry, ‘Rat. I'm sorry.”

 _Don’t cry Jamison, please,_ he wanted to say, but he'd crossed the blurred line at some point and using his real name in bed started this whole mess in the first place.

“I don’t wanna-I don't-don’t let me-” Junkrat was near hysterical now, dry heaving between his sobs and hitting his fist against his head, “Not you too, can't lose you too. You’re the only one I have left, Roadhog. I can’t-I can’t let you slip from me-”

Roadhog tried to soothe him. He knew better than to ask about the meaning behind Junkrat's streams of babble. He could worry about that later. Right now, the man under him was top priority.

Roadhog coaxed Junkrat to put his hand down so he wouldn't concuss himself, and used the rough pads of his thumbs to wipe away the wet streaks across his gaunt face. He held the scrawny man through the snivelling that shook his shoulders. Kneaded at the tense muscles on his back. Carded through his hair and brushed out all the knots.

He’d grown more patient, accustomed to the nature of Junkrat’s breakdowns, and knew all the right techniques to help him get through them.  

“M’sorry,” Junkrat clutched the massive hand cupping his head, and cried until his throat was burning. “You're all I have, Roadhog, you're all I have-”

“I'm here,” Roadhog whispered, leaning in to press a light kiss on Junkrat’s chest, right above his rapid heartbeat. “With you. Not going anywhere.”

The cryptic sadness that plagued his partner came in erratic waves. Minutes of muffled sobbing separated by brief periods of deep, heaving breaths to recover all the energy he'd lost. Roadhog traced soft circles into his faintly freckled cheeks until the worst of the weeping had passed.

"Take your time, 'Rat."

“Mako,” Junkrat whimpered, eventually, finally, meeting the bodyguard’s dark brown gaze. "Please."

Roadhog swore his heart stopped then and there. The amber stare looking up at him was watery, dull, and bloodshot.

Spindly fingers reached towards his cheek, to rub at the salt and pepper stubble around his mouth and jaw.

Roadhog closed his eyes, relishing in Junkrat’s first act of gentle reciprocation that night. Memorized the feel of his bony, scarred hand shakily brushing his face and mapping his features. He was so focused on Junkrat's touch, he almost didn't hear the hushed words that left him. 

“Don’t let me forget you.”

**Author's Note:**

> This is extremely self indulgent, takes place in the same universe as Koraha and All They Need, and is a different perspective on their already multi-faceted relationship. 
> 
> Junkrat has some explaining to do in the next chapter. 
> 
> Thanks for reading, please bear with me, and have a great weekend!


End file.
